


Even if he changes his mind

by Ryxl



Series: Tariverse [6]
Category: World of Warcraft
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Gen, balls of steel, that quest had me seeing red, world politics gets even more interesting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-08
Updated: 2013-03-08
Packaged: 2017-12-04 16:51:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 12,067
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/712947
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ryxl/pseuds/Ryxl
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>As the armies of Horde and Alliance prepare to assault Icecrown Citadel, a very different campaign is launched. All the character development you wished Blizz would give Varian, a guest appearance by Baros Alexston, and a certain canon Gary Stu gets verbally shot down.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Accost

"The entire building has been set aside for the Horde and Alliances forces to coordinate in," Jaina says as she leads us through the red-and-blue decked halls. "Mages are on call at all times for relaying orders. The Kirin Tor feel that defeating A-" her voice stumbles slightly. "-the Lich King is too important to allow garbled or lost messages. They'd like it if you and Thrall would stay in Dalaran for the duration of the final campaign, but there are also mages on hand to provide portals should something come up in Orgrimmar."

I can't help giving her a questioning look. "Me? I am no general. What do they expect _me_ to accomplish?"

We round the corner and what must be the entrance to the Horde suite comes into view - as does the king of Stormwind, who is leaning casually against the wall dressed in a light grey tunic and leggings, covered by a simple sky-blue tabard and soft boots of a matching hue. It looks horrible on him.

"I withdraw the question."

Golthak chokes back a laugh at my dry tone.

"Varian." Jaina sounds slightly irritated, and her arms cross. "What are you doing here?"

"It was my understanding that the Kirin Tor wanted me here until-"

"I know why you're in the city," the sorceress interrupts. "Why are you _here_?"

His eyes slide past her to alight on me. "It would be rude of me to not greet a lady on her arrival, wouldn't it?"

"Well then," I say crisply as he pushes himself away from the wall, "you may deliver your greeting to Lady Proudmoore and be on your way."

"You wound me, Lady Foxton," he says, but he doesn't look or sound wounded. Jaina steps out of the way as he moves closer to me until we are standing in front of each other. "The flower of Theramore, while lovely, could never compare to you in my eyes."

A glance at Jaina shows her fighting back a smile; I'll get no help from that quarter. "This flower has thorns, my lord. One might wonder at the wisdom of stretching out your hand a second time when the first attempt to pluck it resulted only in blood."

"Did it?" His voice is low, husky. "You should have played Hawks and Hares with me, my lady, if you saw no strategic worth in that defeat."

"That was not a defeat, my lord. It was a slaughter. 'Defeat' implies defenses that were overcome, while I do not recall you doing anything but surrendering before my every advance."

My cold glare is met by the same mysterious smile he bore when he bade me farewell at the Argent Tournament nearly six months ago. "And you were most merciful in your victories. However, do not expect that you will remain unopposed in future battles."

I raise my eyebrows. "Oh? Have you found your manhood then, my lord? I wondered if you had left it in Dire Maul along with your title."

"As with any other weapon, _my lady_ , the greatest proof of its potency is the restraint with which it is wielded." The smile has been wiped from his face, and there is a hint of a growl in his tone.

"Meaning to say that you simply _chose_ to let me verbally fillet you?"

The smile comes back, but now it resembles the narrow-eyed anticipation of a wolf scenting prey. "You should have played a match with me, Taretha. I was forced to take your measure with live steel because you would not spar with wooden tokens." He sweeps me a formal bow and favors me with a mildly amused look. "As painful as the experience was, I do appreciate the skill you demonstrated. However, I feel it only fair to warn you that you have under-estimated me, my lady."

My glare sharpens, hiding the tremor of unease that climbs my spine. He let me...? Too late, I remember that Lo'gosh made such a splash because he was severely underestimated, lying quietly in wait for the best time to pounce on his unsuspecting opponents and ravage them mercilessly. What is he planning? The unease fades into determination. If he truly did restrain himself and allow me to attack him without fighting back just to size me up as an opponent, then he is more stubborn and cunning than I thought. Despite myself, I am impressed - but no more willing to swoon before his malformed smile than I had been. The way his eyes gleam hints that he did not miss the change in my demeanor, and that he welcomes it.

"Taretha? With Jaina as my witness, I swear I will focus on our mutual enemy. If I direct any portion of the Alliance's forces against the Horde, I beg you to call me on it and hold me accountable."

"I shouldn't have to do that, your Majesty."

"No, you shouldn't. Because I shouldn't be doing it. But if I do something stupid..." he smiles crookedly at me. "I know that you, at least, will not hold back in telling me so. My guards will admit you at any hour, and will relay a message to me if you would rather I meet you somewhere else, where you can verbally flay me without worrying who the blood will splatter. As always, my lady, it was a pleasure seeing you. I trust our paths will cross again soon."

He sweeps me another gallant bow and strides off before I can gather my wits and for several breaths, silence reigns in the hall.

Finally, Jaina steps away from the wall. "Well, that was...enlightening." She glances between me and the empty end of the hall Varian had vanished around the corner of. "I think he likes you, Tari."

“You don’t say.” I groan and cover my face with my hands. "Ancestors, what did I _do?_ "

She pats my shoulder comfortingly. "You gave him a direction to focus his misguided masculine aggression in. One that won't take innocent lives."

"I _encouraged_ him, and I'm not even sure how."

Jaina looks at me thoughtfully. "I think Thrall was on to something. I know the nobility, and the games they play. You don't play them, and neither does Varian. That's why Onyxia..." she makes a tangled gesture. "If he had been the type to fall prey to feminine wiles, she would have been able to control him."

"But I don't play those games," I say slowly, and she nods.

"Exactly. You're honest and honorable, even when you're not being kind. Trust me, that's refreshing beyond words when you've been raised in court." Her eyes twinkle. "That's what impressed me about Thrall. It wouldn't surprise me if after his stint as Lo'gosh, he yearns for the company of a woman who doesn't simper and flutter her eyelashes."

I turn to look at her, equally thoughtful. "Do you think I could learn to simper?"

Jaina grins. "No."


	2. Avert

“No. Oh, no.” The missive flutters to the floor, discarded now that its contents have been delivered.

“Thrall?”

He ignores me, turning instead to the mage on duty in the room being used as the center of Horde command. “I need a meeting with Wrynn. _Now._ ”

The mage makes a few passes and mutters a few words, then looks startled and a little scared. “Room five. He’s already waiting, Warchief. Apparently, _he_ needs a meeting with _you_.”

“Of course. Relay a message to Korm Blackscar for me. He is to cease _all_ operations until I arrive.”

“When will that be?”

Thrall strides grimly for the door. “That depends on Wrynn.”

“Thrall!” I catch up with him in the hall. “Tell me what happened.”

“Blackscar’s recon team assaulted Alliance forces scouting the gate. There were almost no survivors on either side.”

“Oh, no.” Shock makes me stop, and I hurry to catch up. “Varian’s going to be furious.”

“I don’t blame him.” The pressure in the air makes it clear how unhappy he is about this situation. He shoves the door open with unnecessary roughness, and immediately steps back. “Calm yourself, your Majesty,” he growls.

Past my brother, I can see Varian standing, fists clenched, ready to launch himself at Thrall. He doesn’t look like he’s going to calm himself anytime soon. I duck under Thrall’s arm and hit the furious king of Stormwind with a disapproving glare. Surprised, he falls back a step. I advance, pushing him away from the door with my scowl until Thrall can enter and shut the door.

“I know you’re upset, your Majesty-“

“Upset? My men were _slaughtered_ by your green-skinned _beasts,_ and you-“

“Varian!”

He flinches.

“I am not pleased by the actions those orcs took,” Thrall growls. “They attacked your men without provocation and without honor. If any of them survive their wounds, they may well not survive _me_. The captain of _Orgrim’s Hammer_ approved of their acts. He will shortly be relieved of his post until his injuries heal.”

Varian reins his temper in by force of will at that last comment. “I wasn’t aware he had taken part in the assault.”

The baring of teeth and tusks no more resembles a smile than the Doomhammer could be mistaken for any other weapon. “He didn’t.”

“You’re going to injure your own man?” Varian asks, torn between horror and bloodthirsty amusement.

“Unless something drastic happens to change my mind, yes.”

The scarred face twists back into a scowl. “And you think that’s going to buy my forgiveness after my men were slaughtered in a cowardly attack? I never should have trusted you monsters after what happened at the Wrathgate. I never should have-”

“-should have _what?_ Your Majesty,” I snap, moving between my brother and Varian. “Never should have listened to the voice of reason in putting aside our differences in the name of destroying a common enemy? Never should have acted like a _man_ instead of a common thug and sought to work together with a race that has just as much to lose as you do?”

For a long moment, we glare at each other. He backs down with a wordless snarl, whirling to strike the wall with one fist. The momentary wince as his flesh impacts stone does not escape me. Behind me, Thrall holds very still. Varian pulls his hand back, shakes it, and hisses. Back to us, he hunches over slightly, fighting with himself for a handful of minutes.

“Forgive me,” he says quietly, but it is not clear who he is addressing. “I spoke out of rage and grief. In your place, Warchief, I would be doing the same thing.” He turns around and smiles, but the expression is warped by pain. “My lady, may I have a private word with your brother?”

“Oh, Varian, you didn’t-“ I cover my face with my hands, then turn and bury it in Thrall’s chest, but I am unable to stop the inappropriate laughter from making my shoulders shake.

“Didn’t what?” Thrall asks curiously.

Behind me, Varian utters a gasping sort of laugh. “Please, Taretha, let me humiliate myself in peace with the illusion that I haven’t lost face in front of a beautiful woman.”

_A face like yours is worth losing, my lord._ I almost say it, but don’t. Instead, I step away from my brother but keep my back turned. “I don’t trust that this change of heart will last, my lord. Surely anything you have to say in front of Thrall is fit for the ears of a lady, as well…?”

“Tari, what’s this all about?”

“I am paying the price for my rash action, Warchief,” Varian says, sounding strained. “I had hoped to retain some shred of dignity, but your lovely sister doesn’t trust me to keep my temper.”

“Tari,” Thrall chides. “I can handle one unarmed human. Besides, there’s something I want to ask him, man to man.”

“Oh, alright.” I grin and give him a brief hug before slipping out of the room and pressing my ear to the door.

“The last time I punched a wall, she said if I broke my hand she wouldn’t tend to the wound but that if I asked very nicely, you might.”

Varian’s voice is muffled, but I can hear the pain in it. Thrall makes an awkward sound, swallowing a laugh.

“I was going to ask if you would like to punch the captain of _Orgrim’s Hammer_ a few times,” he says mildly, “but you can’t do that with a broken hand. Here-“

Varian inhales sharply, and there is a pause. “I’d love to, but I think that’s a good reason for me not to. Besides, I’m in your debt now.”

“Then you are in no position to refuse my request.” I can hear the amusement in my brother’s voice. “I would take it as a favor if you would accompany me so that we can present a unified front.”

Now it is Varian’s turn to swallow a laugh. “Well said, Warchief. I accept.”


	3. Engage

After a week of verbal skirmishing in various halls and meeting rooms, I find myself in a corridor facing Varian Wrynn with neither of us having a place to be. Per the rules laid out by the mages of Dalaran, neither he nor his guards are armed, and Golthak and his men are similarly empty-handed. This gives me the assurance I need to push panic away when he suddenly looks at me like a starving wolf seeing a lost lamb.

"My Lady Foxton, what a pleasure," he purrs. He sweeps me a gallant bow.

"Your Majesty." I dip him a curtsy, face impassive and voice chilly.

"There's something different about you, Taretha." He begins prowling around me, eyes roving from head to toe and back, perhaps lingering in the middle of their journey.

"And what would that be, _Lo'gosh_?"

"Don't call me that."

It is like staring into a mirror: fierce defiance and impersonal hostility reflecting from my eyes to his and back again, two wolves challenging each other for dominance.

"Then stop prowling around me like a wolf," I snarl in orcish, daring him with the sound of the word to deny his actions.

Abruptly, he makes a quarter turn and directs his glare at the innocent banner in Alliance blue hanging from the wall. Interesting; he cannot stem the flow of anger, so he aims it elsewhere. I give him the same courtesy, and side by side we regard the hanging cloth with loathing.

"Lo'gosh is _not_ my name," he growls. "Lo'gosh was a wild beast, prodded at with sharp sticks to make it fight the other dumb beasts in the pit. He does _not_ rule me, nor does he rule Stormwind."

I incline my head, conceding the point and acknowledging that he has neatly thrown my words back at me. There is something more, however. This particular type of anger I have seen once before, when my brother took Durnholde Keep. The king of Stormwind is warring with himself, fighting the part of his mind that was what others made it. Fighting for the freedom to choose his own identity, to break the chains of what others wanted him to be.

"That's what's different about you," he says in a tone of forced neutrality. "You haven't once brought up my enslavement."

"Neither have you."

He looks at me in surprise. "You were...that wasn't-" The hostility drains out of him, replaced by a mixture of hope and respect. "You don't just see me as a mad dog to be punished, then?"

"If you were a mad dog, the Horde would have put you down." I keep my tone as neutral as his. "Dogs are servile creatures with no honor, tools unworthy of respect. You are a wolf, your Majesty, growling at those you see as a threat to your pack and your territory. But you have strayed out of _your_ territory, and threaten us from _ours_."

In silence, he regards the banner thoughtfully. I watch him out of the corner of my eye.

"If I am a wolf, then you are one as well," he says casually.

"Of course," I retort primly. "Or have you forgotten my clan?"

He grins at the blue cloth, shaking his head in reluctant admiration. "I had not thought it should be taken so literally. So you are alpha female of the Horde, then, growling at the interloper you see as a threat to your lands and people." Varian turns to look at me curiously. "Why you, and not your brother?"

"Two alpha males fighting would send their packs at each other’s throats, and war between us serves only our mutual enemies. You will hear words from me that you would ignore from him."

"Because you are female?" He raises one eyebrow and grins, mocking  himself lightly. "Because you are a human? Because I am attracted to you?"

"Only you can answer that, your Majesty."

He gives me a slight nod, awarding me victory in that exchange, and turns to regard the Horde-red banners on the opposite wall. "Anduin was right," he says softly.

"On which topic?" I move so that once again, we are regarding the hanging cloth side by side.

"Sometimes, I _do_ forget that I am no longer Lo'gosh, and that the consequences of my actions affect the entire Alliance and not just myself."

At his side, his hand tightens into a fist, but there is only determination on his face. He takes a deep breath, steeling himself for something, and turns to face me. I wait, but he says nothing. Curious now, I turn as well. Only his fisted hands betray his anxiety; his expression is one of a man facing certain doom with the knowledge that if he falls, it will be a glorious, honorable death.

“Marry me.”

I stare at him in shock. _“What?”_

His chin lifts slightly, undaunted. “Marry me.”

I cannot physically retreat to put distance between his adoration and my heart without revealing how badly this has shaken me, so in self-defense I pin him with a stony look. “Have you lost your _mind_? Why would you even _want_ me to marry you? We’d only fight all the time!”

“That’s exactly why.” He turns that intense gaze of his on me full-force. “You yell at me. You tell me when I’m being a moron. I _need_ that, Taretha. Ever since Tiffin died…” his eyes cloud briefly. “I wouldn’t- it would be a marriage of state,” he says hurriedly. “I’m not asking you to-“ he flushes “-share my bed. Not unless- that is, it would be your choice. I’m not Blackmoore. I think you’re a fine woman, and I _am_ attracted to you, but I would _never_ force myself upon you.” He takes a breath to steady himself. “Anduin needs a mother. I-“ the smile is more than a little crooked. “I need someone to be my better half. To remind me that I am no longer the gladiator known as Lo’gosh. To keep me from getting carried away.”

At my continued silence and stony look, he falters, looking much less confident and more desperate.

“Please, Taretha. If you won’t do it for me, do it for Anduin. Or for the Horde. I know how much of an advantage it would be to the Horde, having the Warchief’s sister so close to the king of Stormwind. Think of the good you could do for your people and mine by being there to hold me in check when my temper breaks.”

He flushes again, this time in shame. The rash orders are always countermanded swiftly, but not before there are some casualties – and the stress it puts on both sides is significant. It is, in fact, one of the reasons the Kirin Tor have provided a place where Horde and Alliance may coordinate directly. He sinks to one knee, head bowed like a surrendering foe, and panic flutters at my throat. I want to beg him to stop, to turn around and not continue sailing my treacherous waters, but doing so would mean revealing my own weaknesses.

“Taretha Foxton of the Frostwolf, Lady of Durnholde, I beg you to do me the kindness and the honor of being my bride. I am a better man when you are at my side. You hold my heart in your hands. Please, say you’ll at least consider this.”

One faintly-trembling hand dips into an inner pocket and comes out with a slim gold ring. The diamond set in the center is flanked by a ruby and a sapphire, the colors reflecting the banners that line the walls. He's serious. Blessed ancestors, he's serious. If I refuse him, I will be guilty of causing pain far beyond anything he could ever deserve, but if I accept, I will be again chained to the task of keeping a rash man in check. Varian is not the lord of a small keep, however, and his actions have far greater repercussions than Blackmoore's.

“Speak with my brother,” I say through pale, stiff lips. “With my father dead, such arrangements fall to him.”

I turn with a swirl of skirts and walk away, Golthak and the Elites trailing silently behind me. Varian says nothing, but as I turned I saw a seed of hope on his scarred face.


	4. Answer

“Tari? What’s wrong?” Thrall asks worriedly as Golthak closes the door behind me.

For a moment, I can’t answer. The thought of uttering the words makes my throat close up and I press my face against his chest until the comforting bulk of his arm around me gives me the strength. “Varian will be coming by. Soon.”

Thrall says nothing, waiting for me to finish.

“…to ask for my hand.”

“Well then,” he says, thick green fingers brushing my hair lightly, “he’ll be leaving disappoi-“

“No.”

“…Tari?”

The concerned confusion in his voice undoes me; tears leak from my closed eyes.

“But you hate him. He knows that. Why would you…?”

I can’t answer. I try, but the words turn into sobs and I find myself crying hysterically.

“Golthak,” he rumbles, holding me tighter.

“Hear him out, Warchief,” my trusty shadow says. “Let him explain.”

My brother growls, a deep, primal sound. “This had better be good.”

 

===================================

 

“This had better be good,” Thrall says warningly, hands clenched on the arms of the wooden chair he sits in.

Rather than take offense, Varian swallows like a man sentenced to death and his hands clench and release. “What do you mean, Warchief?”

“You made my sister _cry._ ”

Varian pales and looks suitably horrified, but my brother isn’t done yet.

“You will explain to me, _right now_ , why I should let my sister marry a man who holds the dubious honor of being the first one to bring her to tears since I turned Blackmoore into a pile of bloody flesh for throwing the severed heads of her parents at her feet.”

He pales again; I’d never told him that detail. “Please believe me, it was not my intent to upset her.”

Although Thrall is one of the most cultured and compassionate people I know, he is aware of how intimidating his face and size can make him, and he uses that now to full effect. “Start talking, human,” is all he says.

He listens impassively as Varian runs through the same arguments he gave me. Although my brother seems to be unmoved, I can see the muscle in his jaw relax as the king of Stormwind humbles himself.

“You realize that you are effectively announcing a surrender to the same nation you so vehemently raged against,” he says when Varian has finished.

“I was wrong,” he says quietly. “I didn’t want to see you as _people_ because of what the old Horde did to my kingdom when I was my son’s age. I was too young to enact vengeance on anyone at the time, so I held on to that resentment and tried to hold your Horde accountable for acts perpetrated by orcs most likely long dead.”

Both men are silent for a long moment.

“It takes honor and courage to admit that you were wrong,” Thrall says finally. “What made you change the way you see us?”

“My son,” Varian answers promptly. “I was talking to him about Taretha and how I hoped she would be the mother he’d never had, and he looked at me and said ‘At least I had you. Warchief Thrall didn’t have anyone’.” He stops to swallow the emotion choking him. “In that moment, I imagined my son in your place. Tiffin and I both dead, and he taken in by orcs and raised as a slave. I was outraged. I wanted to slaughter every greenskin in the world, and then something Taretha said came back to me.”

One thick green eyebrow quirks upwards. “Oh?”

“The day I met her, she said that you were a better man than either she or I because for all that you’d gone through, you didn’t hate humanity.”

“I wouldn’t say she _hates_ humanity, but she certainly dislikes some of you very strongly.”

“Including me,” Varian says dryly.

Thrall doesn’t bother trying to deny it. “Including you.”

The crooked grin comes back. “Tiffin and I hated each other at first,” he says fondly. Then he sighs. “I’ve become someone she would be ashamed of.”

“Do you love Tari?”

He jerks as if struck. “Light save me, but I do.” A hand run through his hair nervously, a shaky laugh. “I love her. Even though she hates me.”

My brother smiles faintly. “I wouldn’t say _hate_ …do you have a ring?”

Varian is floored. “A ri-? Yes.”

It is fished out from that same inner pocket and held up for inspection, scarlet and cobalt flashing to either side of the diamond. At my brother’s wordless gesture it is handed over for closer scrutiny. After a moment, he turns to the decorative screen I have been standing behind with Golthak.

“Tari, would you join us?”

I glance at him as I walk calmly to my brother’s side, expression carefully neutral. He looks like a man condemned, waiting for the fall of the axe. At Thrall’s gesture I hold out my left hand, and he hands the ring back to Varian.

“It is customary for the man to put the ring on the woman’s finger, is it not?”

Perplexed doesn’t come close to the way he’s looking at me. It is the confusion of utter defeat turning into a victory so unlooked-for that it almost cannot be believed. It is validation and hope clawing their way out of a pit of despair, and it takes all my strength to meet that gaze. I don’t know what he sees in my eyes, but he suddenly looks fierce and…noble. His fingers are warm and rough against my skin as he takes my hand in his. The gold of the ring as he slides it onto my finger is equally warm from having sat next to his heart. When I neither shriek insults at him nor rip it from my finger and hurl it to the floor, he straightens as though a great weight has been lifted from his shoulders.

“There are many things we need to discuss,” Thrall says calmly. “Many details to be worked out. The negotiations may go on for some time. For the moment, might I suggest Theramore as a suitable location for the ceremony itself?”

“Oh. Of course,” he says, tearing his gaze from my face. “I will open communications with Lady Proudmoore immediately.” His eyes slide back to me, and this time there is hurt concern in them. “Taretha?”

I can feel the tears welling up in me again.

“Taretha, say something?”

I can’t. Ancestors, what am I _doing_?

His hand tightens around mine, voice low and urgent. “Taretha. Tell me how much of a jerk I am.”

That’s right, he’s a jerk and I hate him. But not completely. I don’t want to hurt him when he’s being kind like this, but at the same I _do_. And he… _wants_ me to hurt him, to remind him of what he should be when he’s not being like this. My thoughts chase each other around until they are a tangled knot. I’m confusing myself. So what if he loves me? He knows how I feel about him; I am not obliged to change that, and I’m not going to let this change who I am. I take a deep breath, pushing the whole tangle away from myself, and see his face light up as my eyes focus on him again.

“You had best re-write the wedding vows, my lord,” I inform him coolly, “because I _will not_ swear to obey you, nor will I swear to love and cherish you.”

He flinches at the edge in my words, but looks relieved at the same time and takes a deep breath of his own. “If I wanted fawning servitude, I would have picked another woman,” he says. “I, uh, don’t suppose I’ll get to kiss you at the altar…?”

My frosty glare cools his elation.

“…I didn’t think so. I’ll take my leave of you for tonight, and we can begin negotiations in the morning.” He bows slightly over my hand, then releases it and bows to Thrall. “My lady. Warchief.”

“Go with honor,” Thrall says, returning the slight bow.

“Yes,” I say archly. “Go. With honor.”

That earns me another slight bow, but he goes.

“Well,” Thrall says quietly once he is gone, “it looks like he changed his mind.”

I level a glare at the door. “He still hasn’t changed mine.”


	5. Evade

"Tari? I came as soon as I got Thrall's message." The wooden door muffles Jaina's voice slightly.

"What did he say?"

"Just that something had happened, and that you needed to get your mind off of it." Her voice has the odd restrained quality that says she is trying not to sound as concerned as she is. "I'm not as familiar with the city as I used to be, but I know there are some very good restaurants if you want to get out and nibble ridiculous pastries for a while."

The heavy copper chain bearing its fist-sized Frostwolf medallion is a comforting weight around my neck and on my chest. I grab a tauren-woven cloak and throw it over shoulders before opening the door. The heavy cloth hides my left hand nicely. Jaina searches my face and her mouth tightens slightly. After a moment, she nods once and we leave the compound without another word. Golthak follows silently, keeping a slight distance when we get out into Dalaran itself. Jaina navigates the streets like a native, and we wind up in a fancy little shop with glass-fronted cases filled with equally fancy little desserts. My faithful shadow lingers outside, watching through the window as we are seated - which, after a quiet word to the waiter, is at a table by that same window. Satisfied, my guardian steps to one side to allow us an unobstructed view.

"Okay, Tari," Jaina says once the waiter has gone to fetch us tea. "What's wrong?"

I offer her my diamond-bedecked hand.

"He actually-!" She stares at the ring in surprise. "And you-?"

"I did," I say with a grimace that turns into a graceful smile as our tea is served.

"Oh, Tari, that's..." Jaina trails off, unsure what emotion she should be displaying.

"It's exciting, and horrifying, and sweet Earthmother, what am I _doing?_ Jaina, I let him put a ring on my finger." It takes a moderate exertion of willpower to not wail that last phrase. "Why did I let him do that?"

The urge to cover my face is forestalled by the arrival of a plate loaded with fancifully decorated cakes and pastries. I toy with an almond-paste duckling for a moment, remembering my husband-to-be beheading its less sugary cousin once upon a time, and put it back in favor of something less evocative.

"Why _did_ you let him do that?" Jaina decapitates the duckling and nibbles its spun-sugar beak.

I sigh. "If I said no, I think it would break him. Jaina, he loves me. After Tiffin..."

She winces. "He doesn't do things by half-measures, that's for sure. If your tongue-lashing didn't chase him away, I don't think anything short of a dagger to the heart could convince him to turn his eyes elsewhere."

"I thought he was crazy to ask, but I think I'm the crazy one for accepting."

"Tari…" Jaina takes both my hands in hers. "You're not crazy. You see a need, something that needs to be fixed, and you're taking steps to fix it."

"But..." I grip her fingers as though they were my lifelines. "Part of me doesn't _want_ to see him fixed. Part of me wants him to suffer."

Jaina grins. "Tari, he's _marrying_ you. He's _going_ to suffer. I'm not going to say he doesn't deserve it, because Light knows I've wished I could beat some sense into that thick skull of his, but I know you won't hurt him just for the sake of hurting him. You'll only hurt him until he learns some sense."

"And then what?" I ask quietly, envisioning years of exile chained to a well-groomed and civilized brute.

"We're not going to just abandon you..." Jaina trails off, eyes intent on whatever's outside the window behind me. "...you can start by getting him to stop wearing those colors, they make him look sick."

I repress a groan. "Light grey and sky blue?"

"They probably looked better on him before he tanned so much. He needs to wear darker colors."

"Charcoal and Alliance blue?"

"Mmm, that might work. It'd bring out his eyes, at least."

"I don't want to think about his eyes; those things are dangerous."

"Dangerous? Oh, no - where did he-"

Alarmed, I drop Jaina's hands to look around, only to find myself looking at a sky-blue tabard covering a broad and well-defined torso.

"I hope I'm not interrupting."

I can feel Varian's eyes on me, but I busy myself with something puffy and layered with whipped cream.

"Not at all. Would you care to join us?"

The subtle edge in Jaina's voice is overlooked, either deliberately or through inattention, and with a murmured 'thank you', the king of Stormwind pulls up a seat. I sneak a glance at him and smother a grin at how silly he looks with a plate of fanciful sweets in front of him.

"You're not an easy woman to get a hold of," he says to Jaina. "I know this isn't the most opportune moment, but I wanted to discuss with you the possibility of holding the wedding in Theramore."

His voice is steady and calm, but his fingers are reducing something with raisins to a pile of crumbs. My eyes slide up his face just as his slip sideways, and our gazes lock. Apology and longing burn within those blue depths. My left hand curls up, trying to hide the diamond ring as though it were a mark of shame.

"I won't trouble you much longer," he says, but it is not to Jaina that the words are directed.

"I have no objection to hosting the wedding," she says, eyes urgently asking my opinion.

I tear my gaze away from his and look at her. "It would be the best location. You're about as neutral as anyone could be without holding it here, and I don't think the Kirin Tor would appreciate that."

"Excellent. When we have more details worked out, I'll let you know - provided you don't hear them from Taretha first." He drops the last bits of raisin crumb and stands, bowing to both of us. "Thank you for your time, ladies."

He hesitates for just a moment before leaving, but my eyes are firmly on my hands.

"Okay,” Jaina says once he is gone, “I see what you mean about his eyes."


	6. Assert

“The first order of business, I think, is settling the issue of citizenship.” Thrall looks around the moderately-crowded room.

The Kor’kron Elites and Royal Guard eye each other warily. The two Kirin Tor magically transcribing every word studiously ignore everyone else. Golthak is a silent but reassuring bulk behind me, impassively warding off the glances with which Varian prods at my shell of calm when he’s not giving my brother a look of mingled hope and wariness.

“She’ll be a naturalized citizen of Stormwind, of course. There are already laws in place allowing the transference of citizenship from the other human kingdoms to Stormwind.”

Thrall raises one eyebrow. “Does this legal protection extend to those who no longer have a pulse?”

Varian’s train of thought stumbles to a halt. “I…don’t know. I’d have to read the exact wording. That’s not the issue at hand, though.”

“What about her status as a member of the Frostwolf clan? Do your laws cover that?”

Uncertain blue eyes flick to my face, begging guidance from my blank expression. For a bare instant I allow stark displeasure to show, and he looks away.

“Okay, we’re going to need something in place to protect that.”

“Indeed. Were you aware that the laws of my people extend clan membership through the joining of mates? In the rare cases of cross-clan joinings, that is.”

“Are you saying that I’ll be marrying into your clan, Warchief?”

“Doesn’t it work the same way with your noble houses?”

“That’s a very slippery slope we’re on. I doubt your people would be happy to have me claim membership in your clan by marrying Taretha.”

Thrall steeples his fingers. “Then we need to decide how we’re going to handle this.”

“Let me think.” Varian covers his face briefly. “I have no desire to find myself in the line of succession for Warchief if anything should happen to you.”

“I don’t think anyone wants that, your Majesty,” Thrall says dryly, “any more than your people would want to have me in the House of Wrynn by marriage.”

“Right. So…in the case of a high-ranking member of the Horde marrying a member of the Alliance with roughly equal or greater rank, both parties will keep whatever affiliations they have at the time but not confer the benefits of those affiliations to their spouse. Taretha will remain a member of the Horde, a Frostwolf, and a citizen of Lordaeron, and I will remain a citizen of Stormwind and a member of the House of Wrynn and the Alliance. Neither of us will confer membership on the other by right of marriage for any of that.”

“Sounds good to me.” My brother’s glance flicks to me, and I nod minutely to show that I saw what he saw. “Do you think that will be enough to keep your people from being afraid that the Horde will try to take over your kingdom?”

Varian lets out a bark of humorless laughter. “Not by a long shot.”

“Then how about we add a provision of mutually supported rulership?”

“What are you thinking?”

“Forgive me if I tread on old wounds, but I asked my Forsaken allies about what happened before the old Horde was defeated. King Terenas spearheaded a movement to support your right to the throne of Stormwind, did he not?”

Varian nods slowly. “The first conclave of human kings arranged things such that each would pledge support of the others should anything threaten their rulership.”

“Could we do something similar?”

“You know,” Varian smiles, scarred face warping with the expression, “I think we could. The idea of marching Alliance forces into Orgrimmar should Garrosh try anything stupid amuses me greatly.”

“As does the notion of coming to the aid of the Alliance should an outside threat attempt to replace you.”

“I never thought I’d say it, Warchief, but I like the way you think.” He catches my quietly smug smile and scowls. “Was there something you wanted to say, my lady?”

“Oh, no, my lord,” I reply with studied innocence. “I’m sure that anything I could say, you’re already thinking of – if not something worse.”

He looks at me for a long moment before turning to my brother and asking curiously, “Is she always like this, or just around me?”

“There’s a reason I brought her with me to the Argent Tournament,” Thrall says, not bothering to hide his amusement. “We can work out the exact wording of those two provisions later, though. Was there anything you wanted to address before we dive into the murky waters of how this will affect Horde-Alliance relations?”

Varian glances at me and averts his eyes. “Do the Frostwolf have any customs regarding dowry or bride price?”

Wisely, he keeps his eyes averted as I attempt to sear my displeasure into his skin.

“No,” Thrall says shortly.

“Good. Then let’s agree that there will be neither.”

Thrall blinks in surprise. “You’re forfeiting the possibility of making any kind of arrangement one way or the other?”

That fierce defiance radiates from the very lines of my future husband’s body. “I will _not_ have Taretha bartered for like a piece of property. She is not a bargaining chip, nor is our marriage some kind of political maneuver. I asked for her _hand_ , not trade agreements or territory, and if you see this as an opportunity to wring concessions out of the Alliance or expect me to try to wring some from the Horde, then I have misjudged you and how deeply you care for your sister.”

He pauses, fists clenching and releasing, as Thrall stares at him in shock.

“I’m not fool enough to think that either of you are just going to let me walk away with her no questions asked, but this isn’t about the Horde and the Alliance, or even Orgrimmar and Stormwind. It’s about you, and me, and the incredible woman sitting at this table with us. And _you’re_ only involved because she said so. _No dowry. No bride price._ This isn’t about what your advisors want, or what my advisors want. This is about what _Taretha_ wants, so unless the Lady of Durnholde has something she wants negotiated, _everything_ is off the table. I know she’s not doing this out of any kind of affection for me; I effectively offered her a position in the government of Stormwind, and she accepted, so whatever provisions there are to negotiate should relate to that and only that.”

The silence echoes in the wake of Varian’s words and he glances at me, completely unrepentant. When I see his expression shift from defiance to gratification, I realize that my mouth has fallen open in startled respect.

“Well said, your Majesty,” Thrall rumbles, eyebrows still raised in surprise. “Let the record show that unless the Lady of Durnholde says differently, there is to be no dowry or bride price.”

“Taretha?”

A job. I hadn’t thought about it in those terms, but now that he has put it like that, it makes this whole situation easier to think about. I am not being bartered, I am being sought for my skills. Hired for my mind. Employed for my sharp tongue and wit. Varian respects me enough to risk offending the Warchief of the Horde defending my status as a person and not an object. I meet his eyes steadily and incline my head to acknowledge the point.

“Well said indeed. There will be no dowry or bride price.”

“We are in agreement, then. Shall we move on, your Majesty?”

“Yes, Warchief, I think so.”


	7. Expound

“My lady, may I have the pleasure of your company for a stroll?”

I pause on my way to the door, aware of Thrall’s eyes watching for the slightest hint of panic. When I look at Varian, although his words were cool and distant, his expression begs me to accept even if it means I verbally flay him for it. Curiosity gnaws at me; what could he want to discuss with me badly enough to both invite and accept my wrath? When no immediate denial is forthcoming, he offers me his arm and, bemused, I lay my fingers on it.

“You may, my lord.”

“I’ll see you later, then, Tari.” Thrall’s eyes unfocus for a moment and a draft ruffles my braided hair, then with a nod he leaves the room.

We stroll through the halls in silence until Varian ushers me through a doorway and into a small courtyard boasting only an apple tree and a stone bench. He seats me gallantly and waves the Royal Guard off to the other side, out of earshot. Golthak gestures for the Elites to join them, but does not follow, and Varian does not comment. Slowly, he sits next to me on the bench, leaving enough distance between us that we are in no danger of touching.

“What did you want to talk about?”

“I spent a lot of time thinking after you left Stormwind,” he says quietly. “Particularly about that last point you made. I won’t deny that there was some merit there. At the Tournament…you did remind me of her at first. After Tirion’s demonstration, I think Jaina saw it and tried to point it out to me, but I didn’t listen. It…didn’t really sink in until you told me you were leaving at dawn that the reason you reminded me of her was less the way you looked, and more the way you held yourself.”

He sighs, staring sightlessly at the grass.

“We were betrothed almost at birth. She was a pawn used by her family to gain a place in the House of Nobles, and she hated that. Hated _me_ for that, for a while. It grated on me, being blamed for something I’d had no say in, but we worked it out eventually. After you left Stormwind, I took a hard look at how I’d been treating you. I had to figure out if I was trying to use you as a substitute for Tiffin, if I was only trying so hard to right the wrongs done to you because I saw her reflection in your eyes. I talked about it with Anduin. I dragged out the paintings of her that I couldn’t bear to look at after her death. But the more I tried to remember her, the more I found myself thinking about you.”

Varian turns to look at me finally, with that same vulnerable expression that says if I choose to attack him, he will not fight back.

“I do still love Tiffin, and I still miss her. But I don’t see her memory when I look into your eyes. I see _you_ , and I…” He swallows, looking ever-so-slightly frightened. “Regardless of whatever initially attracted me to you by reminding me of her, what I feel for you…” Again he backs away from what he was about to say. “I know you’re not Tiffin. Nothing will ever bring her back, and I’m not trying to replace her. I proposed to _you_ , not to Tiffin’s memory. It’s _you_ that I want in my life, even if I never change your mind. I know you hate me for your own reasons. I didn’t want one of those reasons to be that you were made into a pawn the way she was.”

“Thank you,” I say softly.

He takes a deep breath. “Thank you for listening, Taretha. I have no illusions that it will magically make you love me, but I wanted to lay that issue to rest.” Varian stands and offers me his arm. “I’ll escort you back to the Horde wing now, if you’d like.”

I look at him for a long moment, the man who just laid his entire heart at my feet knowing there was a chance I would trample it, but choosing to do it anyway out of honor and respect for me. As uncomfortable as I may be with the reminder of his devotion, I have no desire to punish him for this by fleeing his presence. If being his wife is going to be a position that I am uniquely qualified to fill for the purpose of helping him be a better man, then is it not my responsibility to reward good behavior as well as punishing the bad? Would I not be remiss in my duties if I wasted this opportunity?

“My lady?” The calm of his surrender is eroding in the face of my silence.

“You promised me a stroll, my lord.” I don’t quite smile, but my eyes offer him a temporary cessation of hostilities.

“I did. Have I not discharged that obligation to your satisfaction?”

I meet his confused hope with tolerant amusement. “You have not.”

“In that case, my lady, may I show you some of Dalaran’s more scenic spots?” His tone is all cool formality, but his eyes bleed gratitude.

“You may, my lord.” _Now_ I stand and lay my hand on his arm.

The Elites and Royal Guard scramble to fall in behind us as we leave the courtyard.


	8. Insinuate

Only two of the Royal Guard are outside the meeting room when I arrive, indicating that Varian is not alone in waiting for me. My Kor'kron Elites nod respectfully to the Royal Guard, who return the casual greeting and make no other motion as the Elites join them against the wall. Weeks of negotiations have jaded each group to the presence of the other. Golthak follows me inside and takes his place with the other two Royal Guard, watching. Instead of sitting at the head of the conference table, Varian occupies one of two chairs on one side while roughly a dozen nobles line the other.

"Ah, and here she is." Varian grins roguishly at me, gesturing to the unoccupied seat an arm's length away from his. "Taretha, the House of Nobles and the Guilds have sent representatives to meet you."

"To what do I owe the pleasure, my lords?" I ask icily, keeping my disdain just short of outright loathing.

"While we are... _thrilled_...that his Majesty has found..." The man with the ridiculous mauve hat looks nervously between myself and my husband-to-be and licks his lips. "Yes. Well. You may be aware, my lady, that Stormwind's stability has been undermined in the past by an enemy in the guise of a beautiful lady."

The implication is crystal clear. Unfortunately for them, I am familiar  with the details. "Ah, yes. The black dragon Onyxia, wasn't it?" My smile is too sharp to be charming, and more than a few of them flinch. "If I am not mistaken, it took ten years and a common-born man to unmask her. I can't help but wonder, my lords, if her presence might not have been detected earlier if her policies had not coincided so neatly with your own."

One man, a stout fellow in tan, raises his eyebrows and inclines his head towards me respectfully. Several others glower, affronted. "What precisely are you saying, my lady?" one of them asks in a tone bordering on accusation.

I am not nearly so restrained; this topic is one which I have researched thoroughly. "I am saying, _my lords,_ that if you had been paying more attention to your responsibilities and less to your purses, you might have avoided the events leading up to that unfortunate riot. I am saying, _my lords_ , that if you had been more scrupulous with regards to the kingdom that had been temporarily entrusted to you, his Majesty would not have been in a position to ask for my hand."

"You are blaming us for-" the indignant protest cuts off as the speaker, a man in a mustard-yellow tunic, catches a glimpse of his liege's face. "Regardless of what happened in the past, you must understand that there is widespread concern over your loyalties and ambitions."

"My ambitions?" My eyebrows arch. "My lords, I assure you that if I had possessed dreams of power, I would have declined his Majesty's proposal and stayed with the Horde. As for my loyalties, they remain with my brother and my clan as outlined in the treaty being negotiated. If you are concerned that a giddy bride might bankrupt the kingdom with a desire for baubles, my lords, you may rest easy as I am neither giddy nor impressed by pretty stones or pretty words." I look pointedly at the rings that adorn his hands. "In fact, my lord, you are wearing more jewelry than I am and are very close to _displaying_ more precious jewels than I _own_."

"You needn't desire power or wealth to seek the fall of an enemy nation, my lady." The speaker is a thin man wearing teal, with a bushy black beard and sharp nose. "You have never made a secret of your dislike for king or kingdom. Why would you agree to this marriage if not for an ulterior motive?"

Before I can answer, a choked-back laugh reminds me that I am not alone on this side of the table. I glance at my husband-to-be and am unsurprised to find him grinning broadly. "Pray tell, what do you find so amusing, _your Majesty?"_

He schools his expression, but his eyes glint with suppressed mirth. "Nothing, my lady."

I give him an exasperated glare and turn back to the nobles. "That, my lords, is why I agreed to this farce. Your king is a crusading buffoon acting like a lovesick imbecile. While his compulsive need to right wrongs is occupied with the fool's quest of winning my heart, he will not be thinking up new and ridiculous ways to waste the resources and manpower of two nations trying to enact vengeance for his imprisonment. Which, I might add, was brought about by the same organization birthed by the policies which were so eagerly embraced fifteen years ago. In short, my lords, I am cleaning up _your_ mess because your kingdom seems to require the aid of those common-born to keep political disaster at bay."

The nobles find other places to rest their eyes, but the stout gentleman in tan catches my eye. "My lady, may I begin by saying that you are a breath of fresh air and I think his Majesty made an excellent choice?" He smiles, a genuine expression, and I allow my icy mask to crack for a moment to return it. "Now then, you must be aware that the people are highly curious about you, and there are many rumors. I would prefer to have truth with which to combat them, as some of them are rather...unsavory."

"The truth may be equally unsavory," I warn.

"I understand that, my lady, but unsavory truths may be presented with a sympathetic slant. I apologize in advance for the subject, but with regards to the late Aedelas Blackmoore...?"

"He was a drunkard and a lecher who cared for nothing but his own pleasure and dreamed of leading an orc army to overthrow the Alliance."

"And what was your relationship to him?"

"I was his unwilling mistress for seven years."

The room falls silent.

"My virtue should not be an issue in this, as the throne already has an heir and this is a marriage of state."

The stout man clears his throat uncomfortably. "I beg you, my lady, can you lay to rest the rumor that you have taken...other lovers...since joining the Horde?"

My expression resumes its glacial warmth. "As I told his Majesty on the day we met, I have endured the indignities of the bedroom enough to last me the rest of my life."

"You were ill-treated, then?" Asks the man with the yellow tunic.

"If I were to detail the things I suffered, my lords, your king would froth at the mouth from being denied a target to slay. Suffice to say no child should have to see their parents' severed heads roll in the mud."

The assembled nobles glance as one at Varian and then look away from his grim scowl. The fact that he was not surprised seems to make them disinclined to question me further.

"Are there any other concerns?" Varian does not so much ask as threaten violence should the answer be yes.

Naturally, there is no dissension.

"We are done here. My lady?"

He stands and offers me his arm. I hesitate long enough to make it clear that I am choosing to allow it, then rest my fingertips on his sleeve and Golthak opens the door as we sweep out. In silence, we tread the halls adorned with blue and red banners. The Dalaran sunlight is warm against my skin as we emerge from the building, and Varian leads me around the enclosed courtyard to the bench beneath the apple tree. I sit, but he takes a few steps away and examines the fruit hanging from a low branch.

"Before you yell at me, I want you to know that you were magnificent. No one's dared speak to them like that since..." He pulls an apple from the branch and holds it tightly. "...since Tiffin died."

The scathing remark I had been ready to make dies. "I'm not going to yell at you, my lord. I understand the necessity behind what you did."

He looks at me in surprise and a little hope. "I know you weren't happy with me. You made that abundantly clear, to me if no one else." It's a tacit invitation to rip into him.

"My aim is not to tear you down mercilessly and without reason, my lord," I say coldly.

The apple crunches between his teeth for a few moments, and he swallows. "There is mercy, then,  and a reason behind even the harshest of your words."

"I said mercilessly _and_ without reason, my lord. Either the first or the second may be evident without the other, but never both at once."

Varian takes another bite of apple and chews thoughtfully. "That's good enough for me." He bows to me with a flourish. "You are as honorable as you are lovely, my lady. I will see you again soon."

His warm smile glances off my stony expression and he leaves the courtyard through the door leading to the Alliance wing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> He's not mentioned by name, but Baros Alexston is the one in tan.


	9. Assuage

“So it’s over, then?”

Jaina sighs, staring at the statue of her late mentor. “It’s over. Tari…I still can’t hate him, even after all he’s done. I just hope he’s finally at peace.”

Silently, I take her hand and squeeze reassuringly as she dabs at her eyes with a white cloth.

“Jaina?”

Over my shoulder, I pin the king of Stormwind with a look warning him not to intrude, but his eyes narrow stubbornly. “Your Majesty-“

Jaina’s hand squeezing mine interrupts me. “Let him stay.”

I hold the glare a moment longer as the set of his eyes shifts to pleading, then release it with a nod. He comes around to her other side and, to my surprise, pulls her into a rough hug that she does not fight.

“Varian…” Whatever she might have said dies as her throat closes up. She lets go of my hand to put it on his chest as she lays her head against his shoulder.

“I knew him, too, remember?” His voice is low and husky, and his eyes dare me to make a comment.

“I just…can’t help thinking. Maybe…if I hadn’t said no…”

“If he chose to do those things of his free will, then the prince we knew was dead before he ever left Lordaeron,” Varian growls. “If he did not, then he was murdered before he ever took that cursed sword.” He releases Jaina enough to take her chin in one hand for force her to meet his gaze. “I know you tried your best; you _never_ give anything less than your best effort. But I am proof that you can show a man the truth, and he can still refuse to see it. If he couldn’t understand that you were trying to help him, then he was not worthy of you either as a friend or as…something more.”

He holds her gaze until she nods.

“You can’t make another’s choices for them,” he says in a more gentle tone, letting his hand drop. “Even the act of letting someone else choose is a choice. Remember him as he was, Jaina. Not what he became. Mourn the man he could have been, but don’t throw yourself onto the funeral pyre with him.”

A few tears slip down her cheeks and she swallows, unable to speak, but nods to show agreement.

“On that note…” He glances at me and his face colors. “I want to say that while I may not understand the choices you made, I respect your right to make them.”

“What do you mean, Varian?” Jaina asks cautiously.

“Tandred told me you gave up any claim to the throne of Kul Tiras, but declined to tell me what might have made you do that. I know we were never close growing up, so I don’t know what kind of relations you had with your family, but I know that you are a strong, intelligent woman and I have no doubt that your choices are not made foolishly.” The scars on his face twist his grin into something mildly horrifying. “If I’d had any doubts on that score, the news that you helped defeat the Burning Legion would have laid them to rest. There were those who called you crazy for packing up half the navy and sailing off like that, but in the end, you had your reasons and they were good ones.”  He takes a deep breath and lets it out. “So while I may not understand why you made the choices you did, I  trust you to know what you’re doing.”

“Thank you,” she says slowly. “That means a lot to me.”

The warped smile comes back. “Your brother’s not going to like it, but I owe you at _least_ that much. You helped me when I needed it, and you wouldn't have been there to help if you hadn't made the choices you did. Stormwind still stands because you were in Theramore. That's a debt I'm not sure I can ever repay."

Jaina smiles with a hint of mischief. "If I make a choice you object to in the future, I'll remind you of that."

"And I'm sure Taretha will hold me to it even if you don't," Varian says without even the slightest hint of an edge in his voice. He actually sounds...happy. "I look forward to seeing Theramore when I'm not on the run and split in half."

"It’s liable to be cold and rainy on the first day of spring, but maybe the shamans can work with that. The symbolism of the day is worth a little bad weather, I think. When are you and Thrall going to make the announcement?"

He looks at me, silently asking permission before he says, "Two weeks. We don't want to give the impression that we're making light of what just happened. I'll take my leave of you for now, though." He sketches a bow to her, and a deeper one to me. "My presence is making Taretha uncomfortable."

Jaina glances at me, and her lips compress. "Alright. Thank you."

Once my future husband is out of sight, she tugs me over to a bench and sits next to me.

"Tari, are you really alright with marrying him?"

I take a breath, feeling the shell of emotional ice crack with that shuddering inhalation, not realizing until that moment that I had retreated behind it. "I have to be."

This answer doesn't satisfy her, unsurprisingly. "No. That's not good enough. I can't stop you from going into this if you're not completely comfortable with it, but I won't leave you helpless, either. We're in the city of mages; I'm going to find a solution. We're not going to abandon you, Tari."

"Jaina, you don't...he's not going to..." I stumble to a halt at her determined look.

She waves one hand dismissively. "I know he'd be more likely to cut his own liver out than deliberately hurt you, but that doesn't erase the things you went through...and it doesn't guarantee that he won't do something accidentally. Even if you never need to use it, Thrall and I both would feel better if you had some kind of secret weapon so that you don't feel trapped and helpless."

I know better than to argue with Jaina when she's focused like this. Actually, I'd rather she be distracted fussing over me than fretting over what she thinks she should have done to prevent Arthas's fall.

"Okay, you win. What did you have in mind?"

She grins, and I find myself grinning back. "I've got a few ideas."


	10. Empower

" _He's_ the leader of the Kirin Tor?" Varian mutters, eyeing the redhead sauntering closer.

"He's not the _leader_. The Kirin Tor are led by a secret council. No one knows who they are; it’s supposed to keep the political backbiting down. He's just the visible representative of the Kirin Tor, the public face."

Thrall nods at Jaina's explanation. "That makes sense." Beside him, Garrosh lets out a wordless growl. "Garrosh. Behave."

To my left, Varian smirks. "Keep him on his leash, Warchief. I don't want to have to put him in his place in front of the ladies."

The withering glare I pin him with visibly deflates him. Garrosh smirks and Jaina chokes back a laugh.

"Keep him on his leash, Taretha," the Mag'har taunts. Thrall glowers at him before he can say more.

"Did I miss anything?"

The smoothly cocky voice disrupts the balance of the room, attracting all eyes without breaking the tension any. The mage blinks as two glares, a pair of scowls, and a look of irritation are all directed at him. Jaina recovers first and waves him to the seat directly across from me.

"Archmage Rhonin."

"Archmage Jaina Proudmoore," he replies with a careless nod. "Would you do the honors?"

"Certainly." She gestures to her right. "King Varian Wrynn. Lady Taretha Foxton. Warchief Thrall. Overlord Garrosh."

"Son of Hellscream," Garrosh adds sullenly, still glaring at the mage now sitting to his right.

"I see." He looks remarkably unperturbed considering that the last time he was in the room with everyone else, it nearly ended in bloodshed. "So, I understand I've been asked to witness the signing of a marriage treaty. I presume Lady Foxton is the beautiful bride-to-be-" his charming smile falters somewhat under my searing displeasure. "And the lucky man is..."

"Me." Varian sets his jaw stubbornly, fully prepared for my glare to be redirected to him, which of course it is.

Rhonin's smile vanishes and he looks back and forth between us, concern evident in the way his eyebrows draw together. "She doesn't look very happy about it."

"She's not," my future husband says calmly.

"Lady Foxton, are you being forced into this against your-"

He swallows as every eye suddenly turns on him with varying degrees of unhappiness, ranging from cold, offended anger to white-hot fury. Surprisingly, it is Varian's ire which burns hottest.

"I have explained myself to the Horde." Each word is crisp, each syllable bitten off and spat like a dagger of ice. "I have explained myself to the Alliance. I am under no obligation, Archmage Rhonin, to explain myself to _you_. My reasons are none of your business. My choice is none of your concern. I am well aware of the remarkable things you have done, and no doubt you look at me and see a woman who needs to be 'saved' from her situation. Allow me to assure you that this is _not_ the case. I have my hands full as things stand; I do not need another crusading fool blundering into my life like an enraged kodo rampaging through the glass-blower's quarter. You are here to _witness_ ,not to stick your nose into what you do not understand."

Jaina hides a smile; Garrosh doesn't bother making the pretense. To my right, my brother looks proudly down on me while to my left, my future husband sports a grin as cocky as the one the red-haired mage strolled in with. Rhonin frowns.

"Conflict between Horde and Alliance _is_ the concern of the Kirin Tor," he says firmly, just the barest hint of a challenge in his tone.

"Were you not briefed on this situation, Archmage?" Thrall rumbles with an equally subtle note of challenge. "We have availed ourselves of the services offered by the Kirin Tor during every negotiation session; the records should be quite extensive."

Jaina looks at her fellow mage oddly. "The Council knows what effect Taretha has on his Majesty; they explicitly invited her for that exact reason."

Suddenly, Garrosh laughs. "Did you think you could make us play nice, human? Did you hope to pluck that glory for yourself?"

"Of course not!" He colors nearly the same shade as his hair. "I just...I've been busy," he finishes lamely.

"Then stop trying to make a production out of this, and we'll let you get back to your duties," Varian says, looking like he'd rather be communicating with his fists.

Four scrolls are laid on the table by the nervous-looking apprentice who's been standing in the corner with Golthak. Jaina makes a pass over the identical copies of the treaty, mutters, and smiles. "They haven't been tampered with," she says. Another gesture, and they merge into a single roll of parchment which settles before me and unrolls to the six neatly-labeled blanks. The apprentice tentatively offers me a cut-crystal bottle of ink and a glass quill before retreating again. I dip the glass quill into the bottle and sign my name in gold-flecked purple ink.

_Bride: Taretha Foxton_

Varian takes the quill and adds his name in a bold hand.

_Groom: Varian Wrynn_

I pass the quill to Thrall, who prints his name in large, blocky letters.

_Guardian of the Bride: THRALL_

Scroll, bottle, and quill are passed across the table where the other three add their signatures before passing it back for inspection.

_Witness for the Bride: GARROSH_

_Witness for the Groom: Jaina Proudmoore_

_Neutral Witness: Rhonin of the Kirin Tor_

I nod, and Jaina reverses her spell. The four scrolls are unrolled and examined. The ink, magically dry now, proclaims our names identically on all four copies. She hands one to Rhonin and keeps one for herself while my brother and the king of Stormwind each claim one of the remaining copies.

"It's official now, my lady," Varian says quietly. The faint tremor in his voice speaks more eloquently than the way he avoids my eyes.

No words spring to my lips, no emotions batter my heart. I have just legally signed myself into Varian's care, but it doesn't feel real. Maybe it’s because the wedding won’t take place until the first day of spring, or because I have been living for weeks with the realization of what I agreed to. Diamond, ruby, and sapphire wink at me and dry-eyed, I stare back at them.

"Taretha?"

I look up, surprised to discover that Rhonin has left, and so have Garrosh and Jaina. Over my head, Thrall watches Varian grimly. He's got that vulnerable look in his eyes again, hands clenched as though he would rather be reaching for me but knows better. Maybe Jaina was right, maybe I _do_ need a secret weapon to keep me from retreating within myself.

"My lady," he half-pleads, "this treaty delivers me into your power as much as it entrusts you to me."

_I forfeit._

I can hurt him anytime I choose. I am not helpless with him, as I was with Blackmoore. I have not signed away my freedom; I have legally joined the government of Stormwind.

I have a job to do.

"You did that the day we met, my lord."

The relief in his eyes is quickly hidden behind curiosity. "What do you mean, my lady?"

"You declared your intent to change my mind and dedicated yourself to that goal."

"And have I accomplished that yet?"

Thrall chokes back a laugh as I favor Varian with a cool look.

"When that day comes, my lord - _if_ that day comes - you will be the first to know."


End file.
